


Red, the Blood of (mildly) Angry Men

by kitsunequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Neighbors, Teacher Derek, sterek, stiles has a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"YOUR DOG BIT ME WHILE I WAS PEACEFULLY READING A BOOK, YOU NEED TO PUT THAT THING ON A LEASH" au</em>
</p><p>------</p><p>“I’m fine,” Derek repeats. “I’m not taking you to court, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>That’d be a great case.<em> Look, your honor! Mr. Stilinski’s dog viciously tore my hand open. There’s no scar or stitches or hospital records or photos to prove it, but he did, I swear!</em> Yeah, no. Besides, Derek had been the one to pet the dog, which probably wasn’t his best idea, even if it was domesticated.</p><p>“It doesn’t even hurt that much,” he adds. “I’ll be alright.”</p><p>“That’s an awesome sentiment and all, and you rock, but you say that till you see the hospital bill. Those people are crooks, I swear. And it doesn’t hurt? That’s the shock talking. Even big tough manly men can get infections, dude. We need to go to the hospital, like, now.”</p><p>“Big tough manly men?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red, the Blood of (mildly) Angry Men

**Author's Note:**

> I got two variations of this prompt, one with the dog biting and one with licking, so I combined them. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: I changed the title; formerly, 'Life is Ruff'.

Derek is exhausted.

Between work, his sisters, and trying to have some semblance of a social life? It’s a wonder he hasn’t keeled over yet.

For the past few weeks, his world has been a constant tangle of dealing with students trying to hand in last-minute papers, spending half his time grading said papers, listening to sob stories about why those who haven’t been turning in assignments all quarter don’t  _really_  deserve to fail, trying not to lose touch with Boyd, Isaac, and Erica while they’re in their last year of college, constantly hearing about Laura’s boyfriend, and constantly hearing about Cora’s  _lack_  of a boyfriend. Funnily enough, no one seems to care about Derek’s lack of a boyfriend. Not that he has time for one, but still.

When he does get a rare, free moment, he spends it lounging in the front yard, reading a book. And, thank god, now is one of those times.

He’s sitting in a beach chair with his feet kicked up on the birdbath, slowly but surely making his way through Les Mis. He knows next year’s students will gripe horribly about the size, but at least he’ll be able to honestly assure them it’s worth the read. He’s just reached page 569 when a big, black dog wanders in through the gate. Derek has told the mailman a thousand times to shut it on his way out, but to no avail. The dog, who Derek notes  _is_ wearing a collar, steps heavily on his freshly mown grass, and is nearing Laura’s flowerbeds when he whistles at it. The dog perks up, as though it hadn’t noticed Derek earlier, and happily trots over, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

“Hey, boy,” Derek says, dog-earring the book and setting it in the grass, and reaching a hand out. “C’mere.”

The dog shoves its muzzle in Derek’s hand and seems perfectly content to stand there all day, rubbing itself against his fingers.

“You lost?” Derek asks. “Hmmm?” He moves to scratch behind its ears instead, because its muzzle is disgustingly slobber-covered, when three things happen in very quick succession.

The dog, whose teeth are much sharper than they look, chomps down on Derek’s palm. 

Derek flashes blue eyes at the dog, who immediately whines and lets go.

A brunette man comes running into view and yells, “Holy shit!”

Well, this won’t be good.

Derek practically breathes a sigh of relief when he follows it up with, “Bad, Toby! Bad! We don’t bite!” He was much more concerned that the guy had seen his eyes blaze blue than about the cut on his hand that’ll heal soon anyway. Though, now that he’s focusing on it, it really is pretty deep, and there’s blood flowing freely.

The guy, who’s panting now, makes it through Derek’s gate and grabs his dog by the collar. Not that it makes much of a difference, considering that since Derek asserted his dominance, the dog has been sitting still and whining.

“Bad, Toby! Bad!” The man releases the dog when it’s clear he’s not going anywhere, and looks up at Derek. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry. That’s-  _fuck_  that’s bleeding a lot. Look, my Jeep is like three blocks down, lemme drive you to the hospital. I am  _so_ sorry, dude.”

As the man babbles, he grabs Derek’s arm and pulls him in the direction of the gate, but Derek doesn’t budge. The bite should close up in ten minutes, tops, and stop bleeding even sooner. He doesn’t need the hospital; he needs this guy gone by the time his healing kicks in.

“I don’t need you to drive me,” Derek tells him calmly. “I’m fine.”

Well, fine, if a little pissed.

“What? Do you see how much blood you’re losing? That thing’s gonna scar like hell, especially if you don’t get stitches—wow, that’s… that’s not gonna help my ass in court. But seriously, man, I swear I’m not a kidnapper or a serial killer or something. I’m Stiles Stilinski, my dad’s the sheriff. Just let me drive you to the BHMH. My friend’s mom is even a nurse there, she can-”

“I’m fine,” Derek repeats. “I’m not taking you to court, don’t worry about it.”

That’d be a great case.  _Look, your honor! Mr. Stilinski’s dog viciously tore my hand open. There’s no scar or stitches or hospital records or photos to prove it, but he did, I swear!_ Yeah, no. Besides, Derek had been the one to pet the dog, which probably wasn’t his best idea, even if it was domesticated.

“It doesn’t even hurt that much,” he adds. “I’ll be alright.”

“That’s an awesome sentiment and all, and you rock, but you say that till you see the hospital bill. Those people are crooks, I swear. And it doesn’t hurt? That’s the shock talking. Even big tough manly men can get infections, dude. We need to go, like, now.”

“Big tough manly men?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow.

A blush quickly rises up Stiles’ cheeks.

“I- I’m just- look, I need you to come with me, okay? Can you just-”

“Hey,” Laura says, poking her head out the front door. “Everything okay out here?”

“No,” Stiles answers. “Hey, I’m Stiles, that’s Toby,” Derek refrains from rolling his eyes when Stiles introduces his dog, “and Toby bit-”

“Derek,” Derek supplies.

“Right. Toby bit Derek, and Derek won’t come to the hospital. Are you his girlfriend or something? Cuz you need to like, withhold cuddling or whatever till he gets his hand looked at.”

Laura’s actually biting her lip to keep from laughing, and Derek gets the feeling she’d watched the entire encounter from the living room window. Luckily, Stiles is too busy staring at Derek’s hand again to notice.

“His sister,” Laura corrects, when she regains her composure. “Don’t you worry, Stiles. Derek’s always been a bit bullheaded. I’ll grab my keys, drive him to the ER. You can head home—Derek won’t be pressing charges, right, Derek?”

“Yeah,” Derek confirms. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just… put your dog on a leash or something. There’re laws about that, sheriff’s son.”

The blush spreads to the tips of Stiles’ ears.

“I’m- I’m really sorry. He actually was on a leash, but it was an old shitty one and he literally yanked himself off it. It’s still laying on the ground a few blocks back if you wanna see,” Stiles says, jerking his thumb in the direction he came.

“It’s fine,” Derek sighs. He’s holding his bloody-but-not-bleeding hand in the other now, trying to hide his healing, and raises them both as he adds, “We really need to get going. See you around.”

Stiles seems to take the hint at his dismissal, and grabs the dog by the collar.

“Thanks, for not pressing charges,” he says, hunched awkwardly as he backs away, pulling Toby along with him. “Like, really. You’re, like, the best person on the planet. Thank you.”

Derek nods at Stiles, who grins awkwardly till he’s out of view down the block.

“How’s it feel?” Laura asks, shutting the door behind Derek as he heads back inside.

“It’s okay,” Derek says, shrugging. “Stings, but it’ll be alright in a few-”

“Not your hand,” Laura says, smirking. “Being the best person on the planet. How’s it feel?”

“Shut up,” Derek mutters.

“But he was so  _cute_ ,” Laura coos, laughing delightedly.

“Who was cute?” Cora asks, walking in and plopping down on the couch. “Is there something you need to tell Jordan? And Der, are you  _aware_  that you’re dripping blood on the carpet?”

Derek sighs, wiping his hands on his already-spoiled shirt, making Cora wrinkle her nose.

“ _No_ ,” Laura says. “The sheriff’s son’s dog just bit Derek, and he was totally Derek’s type.”

“You’re into dogs now?” Cora asks. “I mean we know you’re lonely, Der, but…”

“I’m leaving,” Derek announces, heading into the kitchen to wash up.

“He was cute!” Laura calls after him. “All those moles! And even from the door I could see those eyes sparkling! You know you want his number, Derbear!”

“Shut up,” Derek calls from the sink. “Or I’ll bleed on your countertops.”

“Rude!” Cora and Laura call in unison.

* * *

Miracle of miracles, Derek has another few hours free the next day. It may have something to do with him telling his boss some dumbass’s dog bit his hand, but shut up. He  _was_  bitten by a dog, and he deserves a break.

He’s lounging in the front yard again, Les Mis in hand, when Toby comes padding in through the gate. Derek has officially given up on his mailman.

This time, though, Toby is wearing an extremely long leash—so long Derek can’t see the other end of it, only that it goes out the gate—and carrying a basket of muffins in his mouth, with a note taped to the handle.

“Maybe that Stiles guy was right,” Derek calls. “Maybe an infection did set in. It looks like there’s a dog carrying a basket of muffins in my front yard.”

Stiles steps into view, winding the retractable leash up as he enters the yard and stops a few feet away.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.

“What’s this?” Derek asks.

“There’s a note,” Stiles says, gesturing awkwardly at the basket Toby has now set down.

“Sorry I bit you,” Derek reads aloud. “My owner wanted you to know that I’m actually really well trained, but I have an ear problem. Dr. McCall tries to help me out, but I still get a little snappish when I’m touched unexpectedly. My owner made you some muffins to make up for it, and to thank you for not suing our asses.” It’s stamped with a black paw print at the bottom, and Derek can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Your owner seems like a pretty cool guy,” Derek tells Toby, reaching out to pet his muzzle again, and carefully avoiding his ears. “But tell him the muffins have dog drool on them.”

“Crap,” Stiles mutters, and when Derek looks back up at him, he’s biting his lip.

“Uh, Toby, tell Derek that he’s pretty brave for petting you again, and he’s a cool guy too, for giving you a second chance.”

“We big tough manly men aren’t afraid of dogs,” Derek says, turning back to Toby and rubbing his belly when he flops over. “Right, Tobe?”

“Toby, tell Derek it’s not cool of him to use my nervous rambling against me more than five minutes after it’s out of my mouth.”

Toby starts kicking his leg as Derek finds the perfect spot.

“And that it’s also not cool for him to make you like him more than you like me.”

“Maybe he’s sorry he bit me,” Derek says, glancing over at Stiles again.

“He is,” Stiles says. “And uh, I am. Seriously dude, I mean it. That must hurt like hell. How is it, anyway?”

“I’ll live,” Derek says, raising his bandaged hand. It’s only bandaged because he’d sent a picture of it all wrapped up to his boss and been too lazy to undress it, but he’s definitely glad now.  _That_ would’ve been hard to explain away.

“I’m just glad you got stitches,” Stiles says. “You seemed pretty happy to bleed out right on your front lawn. I really hope it’s better soon though.”

Derek shrugs.

“If my muffins didn’t have drool on them, that’d probably help me feel better.”

“Maybe I could do something else for you,” Stiles offers.

“Something else?”

“Like… take you on a date? Maybe?”

He’s biting his lip so hard that Derek thinks he may actually dig a hole in it.

“Toby,” Derek says, looking Stiles in the eye, “tell Stiles I’ll pick him up at six on Friday. And that I really like black coffee, and that Koffee Kraze makes the best muffins.”

Toby barks, Stiles grins, and if he listens hard enough, Derek can hear Cora and Laura giggling from the house.

But hey, who cares? He’s got three days paid leave and a date. Life’s good. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed:) 
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at [stilesbansheequeen](http://stilesbansheequeen.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated<3


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